


Love's Musketeer, Chapter 17

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Love's Musketeer [17]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Read the series notes!, Romance, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-17
Updated: 2003-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our four heroes face the Devil and one of his demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Musketeer, Chapter 17

Athos slid open the secret panel and motioned for silence. Touching D'Artagnan lightly on the shoulder, he followed his comrades as they quietly slipped into the shadowed passageway. Surprised to find he could see just as easily in the dark as he could in the light, Athos gathered his friends to his side and whispered final instructions. 

"The doorway to the King's private chamber is up ahead on the right. If the Cardinal has found his way into that room he will most definitely not be alone." 

The men nodded their understanding and turned to go. Their captain's whispered request stopped them. 

"Wait." 

Athos examined each man, assuring himself of their unwavering loyalty and their conviction to protect the royal family at any cost. "The Cardinal is mine. His blood will stain only my hands. This is the only thing I request of you, my friends." 

D'Artagnan embraced his tall lover and pressed a kiss to Athos' guardian crucifix. "We understand, beloved. But know this... if you fall, I, myself, will dispatch this devil back to Hell." 

Athos buried his face in the softness of his young companion's curls, his somber blue eyes communicating a silent plea to his oldest friend, Porthos. 

_Protect him at all costs._

The black Musketeer nodded and reached out to grip his captain's shoulder. 

Sharing one last sweet kiss, Athos untangled himself from his lover's embrace and led his men down the hallway. Rounding a corner, the four Musketeers found Rochefort guarding the entrance to the King's chamber. The one-eyed swordsman had his back to the men, obviously speaking to someone inside the room. His sword was drawn but held lazily in his hand, a clear sign that Rochefort did not expect trouble. 

A flash of crimson caught Athos' attention and he lunged forward. Rochefort instantly detected the noise and pushed his unseen cohort back inside before turning to greet the Musketeers. 

"Well, look what we have here. Two old dogs and their tit-sucking whelps." 

Rochefort's black gaze and sword encompassed all four men. "And just what brings you here? A private audience with the King? His consort?" 

Never taking his eyes off his enemies, the Cardinal's accomplice bowed lowed, a sarcastic grin of victory firmly fixed upon his face. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. Those you seek are otherwise _engaged_. You'll have to come back at a later time." 

Porthos stepped forward and aimed his sword at the man's heart. "Dispense with the idle mockery, Rochefort. You know why we're here. Step aside and you'll live. Defy us and you'll die." 

Rochefort's one eye, clouded with hatred, taunted them. "Well, dear comrade. I guess it's your day to meet your Creator. En garde." 

Porthos sighed wearily, and with a glance at Aramis, raised his sword and accepted the man's challenge. Making the first lunge, Porthos shouted to Athos. "Aramis and I will take care of this bastard. The two of you go ahead and secure the safety of the King. We will follow shortly. It should not take me too long to kill this fool." 

Athos nodded, his eyes scrutinizing Rochefort's moves. The moment Porthos deflected the man's sword to the side, the Musketeer captain grabbed D'Artagnan and quickly moved past the fighting. 

Porthos watched his comrades hurry down the hallway and smiled at the way D'Artagnan managed to keep one hand resting in the small of Athos' back. The boy's touch obviously grounded his friend. The Musketeer's musings were abruptly halted by a gash across his thigh from Rochefort's blade and he cursed his foolishness. Returning his attention to the battle, Porthos renewed his attack, calling silently to his Maker, informing Him that he was fully prepared to protect his friends with his life. 

Each man pressed his advantage, gaining ground only to lose it to a subtle pass of the blade. Porthos pushed Rochefort back again and again, his large bulk towering over the smaller man. The Musketeer's sword wounded the Cardinal's captain in several places but the man's constitution was strong and he refused to falter. 

Porthos struggled to catch his breath, honor and determination battling with the abiding exhaustion that still lingered from the long journey home. His tunic was soon soaked with sweat and his graceful movements became slow and cautious. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Porthos swiftly banished the thought of defeat from his mind. His lips curled in a smile of vengeance and his gaze reflected a warning Rochefort would have been wise to heed. The only way this fight would end would be in death. If it be his, Porthos knew Aramis would step forth and finish the task for him. 

The noise of metal hitting the ground distracted the tiring Porthos for a fraction of a second but it was enough for Rochefort to gain the upper hand. His sword slid under Porthos' sword arm and sliced deeply into the skin and muscle. The large black man cried out in pain and dropped his blade. 

Rochefort sprang forward and caught his opponent in his arms. He placed the edge of his sword to Porthos' throat and looked up, smiling at the furious and frightened look on Aramis' face. "It seems the prediction of my death is a bit premature. I do believe the angels must have a fondness for old dogs for indeed they will be ministering to this one in a few moments." 

Rochefort pulled Porthos to his feet, a thin line of crimson appearing across the older man's throat. "I would not struggle, dear Porthos. My sword has no conscious and will slice your throat open without hesitation." 

With his blade holding the Musketeer motionless, Rochefort reached inside his tunic and removed a small dagger. He quickly cut the ties that held the older man's breeches together. The garment fell open, sliding down the large man's legs, exposing his naked groin. Rochefort pushed Porthos to his knees, the light of a solitary lantern falling across his nudity. With his taunting, evil gaze focused on Aramis, the swordsman reached down and cruelly balanced the black Musketeer's manhood and ballsac on the edge of his dagger. 

"Bid adieu to these old, dried up jewels, Aramis. In just a moment your beautiful ass is going to acquaint itself with true manliness." 

Rochefort gazed down at Porthos, his features dark with hatred and contempt. "I will have your lover and he will howl with pleasure as I take him. Die slowly, old man. Let Aramis' screams be the last thing you hear." 

A flash of sparks and an explosion of sound ripped through the passageway. Rochefort's eyes widened with astonishment then wavered closed as the heavy weight of death caught him in its embrace. His weapons fell to the ground as Porthos' bulky form slid from his arms. Unable to speak, Rochefort toppled backwards, his body catching on the nearby wall, the support guiding him down into a sitting position. Blood poured from his chest to form a widening pool of crimson between his thighs. 

A shadow hovered over him and, even with his vision swiftly dimming, he still attempted to gaze upon his executioner. Aramis stood in front of him, a small smoking musket in his hands. 

"Did you not learn the most simplest of the rules of engagement, Monsieur? Never, never take your eyes off your opponent. It can be a most deadly mistake, don't you agree?" 

Aramis gently cupped Rochefort's chin, tilting his head so that he could whisper in his ear. "I want you to know that my beautiful ass will be treasuring my lover's jewels for the rest of my life. And rest assured that our love will be a sweetness that shall torment you in Hell forever." 

Turning away from Rochefort, Aramis knelt in the dirt and gathered his lover close, sighing unhappily at the wounds his lover had acquired. "You are a brave man, Porthos. Maybe a touch too brave." Aramis ripped strips of cloth from Porthos' undershirt and used them to bind his wounds. "One of these days you will allow me to be the first one to step into the path of an enemy's blade. I hate to say this, my love, but you are not as young as you used to be. Maybe it is time to consider retiring from the King's Guard?" 

Ignoring his lover's muttered curses, Aramis tenderly clothed Porthos' nakedness, securing the ties of his breeches before assisting him to his feet. "Remind me to seek reimbursement from the King's treasurer for my cloak. Mon dieu, I cannot believe I'm going to do this." With a frown of disgust marring his handsome features, Aramis threw his richly embroidered cape over Rochefort's dead corpse. "It is more than you deserve, that's for certain." 

Wrapping an arm around Porthos' waist, Aramis guided him in the direction Athos and D'Artagnan had traveled earlier. "Our demon has been dispatched to hell, Porthos. Let us now go forth and find the Devil." 

+++++++ 

Athos rushed inside the King's bedchamber and, to his dismay, found the room empty. As his astute gaze explored the area, he heard rather than saw the sound of curtains rustling shut. Pulling back the heavy coverings that lay to the right of the King's bed, the Musketeer captain discovered a second hidden doorway. He pushed on the secret panel only to find it locked. Before he could begin to search for the mechanism that would open the panel, D'Artagnan's voice beckoned to him. 

"Athos. Come here." 

The young Gascon stood beside the royal bed, a look of horror etched upon his face. His hand trembled as he reached forward and pulled back the tangled linens. "You don't think...." 

The heavy odor of sex assaulted Athos' sensitive nose and he quickly determined the scent was fresh. Stepping closer to the bed he was also able to detect the taint of blood in the air. Anger rumbled through his tall form as his eyes beheld the stained sheets. The visible evidence of blood and spilled seed was apparent. And with a further scrutiny of the mattress and the extra linens that were carefully folded on a nearby chair, the Musketeer was able to discern that someone beside the King and his consort had lain upon the bed. A third party had dirtied the silk linens, a scattering of unfamiliar seed overlaying the royal couple's familiar essence. 

Athos catalogued the signs of an apparent struggle--- a torn pillowcase, a ripped coverlet, the scratched headboard. He slowly reached out and snagged a small tuft of hair, lifting the soft curl to the light. Its color was that of light chestnut--- the color of Phillipe's hair. 

Athos' soul went black, his gaze darkening with rage. He turned to face his lover and his heart shattered into a million pieces of fury. D'Artagnan held out his hand, showing Athos a small piece of scarlet cloth. The older Musketeer did not need to examine the item for he knew immediately the patch of tattered crimson belonged to the Cardinal. 

Emotions overwhelming him, Athos grabbed the mattress and tossed it off its frame as he howled out in anger. The only thought in his mind was that of pure hatred and he, in that moment, surrendered the heavenly claim on his soul and bent to the task of extracting his revenge on the Cardinal. "I am now Death's envoy, D'Artagnan and it's time to deliver to Richelieu his personal invitation to Hell." 

The Musketeer captain tucked the consort's small lock of hair inside his tunic, a whispered prayer for the safety of his royal family offered to the angels he, himself had just denied. With one last look at the tattered cloth his lover had thrown on the floor, Athos directed D'Artagnan back into the secret passageway. 

"Come. We must hurry." 

They quickly found their two comrades hurrying toward them, Porthos leaning heavily upon his young lover. Athos glanced past them and saw Rochefort's lifeless body propped against the wall of the passageway. He sent an inquiring look at his friend. 

The black Musketeer took his sword in hand and straightened to his full height, a flicker of pain drifting across his face. "I'm alive. He's not." 

Athos' discerning gaze passed over his oldest friend, hesitating at the bloodstain on Porthos' tunic. A silent question was offered to Aramis and the Musketeer quickly reassured him with a smile. 

"My stubborn lover will live." The young priest pressed a loving kiss to Porthos' check before turning his attention back to Athos. "The Cardinal?" 

The Musketeer's eyes blazed with hate, his features hardening into a warrior's mask. He spat out one word. "Escaped." 

Athos pulled D'Artagnan close, allowing the smaller man's arms to wrap around him and warm the chill in his heart. He gripped the lad's wrist and brought the gold braiding to his lips as he whispered, "Guard my heart and soul, young one, but promise me you will keep yourself safe. If I leave this world today, I want you alive and able to seek love and happiness with a new mate." 

D'Artagnan eyes filled with tears as he watched his beloved lead them down the passageway and he took extra care to commit to memory every detail of Athos' face and body. Allowing the darkened access to hide his tears, D'Artagnan wiped his eyes and whispered a promise to his heart. "There will be no one else. If your soul wishes to leave this earthly realm then mine will surely follow." 

D'Artagnan offered a small smile when the Musketeer captain turned a worried look upon him. "I love you, Athos. And I will follow you to the gates of Hell. Bring on the devil, for we shall face him together." 

* * *

End

**Author's Note:**

> Cast of characters: Athos-Jim, D'Artagnan-Blair, Porthos-Simon, Aramis-Rafe, King Louis-OC, Phillipe, King's consort-OC, Cardinal Richelieu-Garett Kincaid, Rochefort-Lee Brackett, Duke of Buckingham-Stephen Ellison, Henri Phillipe-Henri Brown, Lady de Winter-Carolyn Plummer, Rogert-OC 
> 
> 1\. This is set in a GAY universe. Most every character is GAY.  
> 2\. If you're looking for a work of literary excellence with in-depth plots and insightful thoughts from the characters, you're in the wrong place.  
> 3\. Please remember this series was written purely for fun! Romance and sex, with a little sword play thrown in for good measure--that's the way I wrote it.


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